Read Me Like A Book
by Anime Girl23
Summary: The Puckerman family carries a secret in their genes. Powers. As far as Puck was concerned, his empathy was a bad hand that was probably going to drive him crazy. Feeling every emotion everyone around him felt… Touching made it go quiet. Finn just wanted to help. Finn/Puck slash


Disclaimer: Glee doesn't belong to me.

Read Me Like A Book  
One-shot

Noah Puckerman came from a family of freaks.

Yeah, he was in Glee and he'd learned that whole spiel of "embrace what makes you different" and blah, blah, blah, but the fact of the matter was that his family was fucking weird. Well… His dad's family. His ma's family was boring as shit.

He'd call it the Puckerman family curse, but it seemed like he was the only one that had gotten stuck with a shit ability.

Growing up, it had driven him crazy that no matter what, his Nana Connie had always known what was going on before it actually happened. Any time he tried to steal a cookie as a kid, he was hit with a wooden spoon before he made it past the doorway. Fucking cookie hog. But she knew, though. She _always_ knew.

His dad—before he fucked off—had… Puck didn't even know what to call it, but the guy had been able to play his guitar without even touching it. He used to sit next to the instrument, watching the strings pluck and vibrate while his dad sat on the other side of the room, beer in one hand as the fingers on the other one played it out in the air. Puck would kill to be able to do that.

Even Sarah, his brat of a little sister, got fucking _fire_. The kid could barely light a birthday candle right now, but once she got older and learned to control it, she was going to be even more of a badass than him. Which wasn't fair at all. The girl was all about Barbie and My Pretty Fucking Pony and she got to control fire. _Seriously_?

He got crap. As far as he was concerned, he got fucking _crap_. Nana Connie called it empathy, but what the fuck kind of good was that going to do him other than drive him bat-shit crazy?

Okay, so maybe it was a _little_ cool. He already knew when some girl wanted him, so one little smirk and a compliment and he was in her pants (or her spanks). He always knew when his mom was upset about something and when to just sneak into the house and up to his room.

This empathy shit, though, was more of a hassle than anything. For as much as it helped him when he was playing the field, it never fucking _stopped_. Every second of every day, everyone else was in his head so much that he could barely even think. Everything the people around him felt, he felt, and it _hurt_.

No one seemed to get that. Half the time, he was stumbling through school and trying to force everything back. He gave up on math years ago just because it was easy and he needed that hour to hide and regroup. It was never enough time.

When he was a kid, his Nana Connie had seemed to understand. She'd said that there were two kinds of empaths. The ones that avoided touch and the ones that craved it.

He was one of the ones that craved it.

Touch helped. Holding on to someone, it shut out everyone else and let him breathe. Yeah, it just meant that person was feeling louder in his head, but at least he was only dealing with one other person sharing space in his brain.

So maybe his ability made him into a bit of a whore. It kept him from going crazy like Nana Connie seemed to over the years. Though, that could just be her losing it a bit more as she got older. It might have nothing to do with her visions or whatever. He wasn't sure.

The near-quiet that touch brought, though… He needed it. He needed it like his dad needed a drink—or AA, whichever—and anger management classes.

Except… The empathy? It also made him know more about his friends than he ever wanted to.

He felt the guilt when someone cheated.

He felt the chest-crushing agony that radiated off of Santana when she used to watch Brittany with Artie.

He felt the happiness and fear when the two of them finally got their heads out of their asses and got together (sorry, Artie, but dude never stood a chance).

He felt the terror Kurt went through during the shit with Karofsky and the self-hate and confusion the jock was feeling.

What almost killed him was Quinn. The pain and the guilt before Finn found out about him being Beth's father. The continued guilt and fear during the rest of the pregnancy. The lie when they were at the hospital and she said she didn't want to keep Beth. It wasn't him hoping or whatever. He fucking _knew_ , okay? Everything coming off of Quinn then (and again when they signed the papers, all of junior year), he actually couldn't breathe. That day in the hospital, it was all so heavy on his chest that he'd had to practically run out of the nursery so he could find a private spot to pass out.

It had been too much. Everything he'd been feeling, she'd been feeling. It was like putting his head next to an amp at top volume. He couldn't handle it. He could never handle it. The heavy emotions… This was why he needed mental barriers, he thought. Learn them and make them _stay_ , but he never seemed to manage it. They took all his focus and the second something caught his attention, the rush was even worse than the constant screaming in his head.

The last time he tried that, the shock of it made him drive into a building. A trip to juvie and, God, that place was even worse. The abandonment. The anger. The hopelessness. Most of those guys had already given up. They'd tossed out any hope for a productive life and resigned themselves to shit.

That alone had kind of broken him. Back in Lima, he knew where he could hide until he'd put himself back together, but he didn't have that at the detention center. Everything built up over days and weeks until he'd snapped.

His roommate had found him on the floor of their bedroom, shaking and crying like a junkie needing a fix, and he'd kissed him. Kissed the guy like he couldn't live without it and, honestly, maybe he couldn't. Tyler didn't push him away. He _did_ push him towards the bed as clothes fell off, but Puck barely blinked, so lost in the relief of only having to hear one person. The pain and the anger of everyone else in the facility went quiet except for the teen on top of him.

Tyler was straight, but he'd messed around with guys in the year that he'd been at the center. Not much other choice. He read him like Tyler was an open book—he kind of _was_ for him—and let their bodies come together. Tried to prolong it as much as he could, because the second the touches stopped, he'd have to hear everything again. Every person. Every feeling.

It woke something up in him, though. The desperation that led him to a guy made him face the curious stirrings he'd felt whenever he got too close to Kurt or Blaine. Never for _them_ , he knew, but the want and desire of another guy.

It happened too often. So lost in everyone else's heads that he didn't even realize what was going on in his own.

He wondered if it was the empathy that made him that open, but he never let himself think too much on it. Whatever he was, he simply was. There was no point in wondering if his freak ability had pushed his sexuality one way, the other, or both.

Really, it just gave him a wider field to play. More people to hide in. Always desperate for some kind of contact. Santana. Lauren. Rachel that one time. Mike and Tina those couple times the two of them decided to get a little freaky. Shelby. Quinn. Whatever stranger looked at him twice.

He fell into bed with Finn two months into senior year. One week after Shelby had disappeared with Beth again and it had been like he was drowning. No chance of mustering up a mental barrier of any kind and he'd been sure he was going out of his fucking mind. He couldn't hold a conversation. Couldn't stop shaking. It was like he was in overdrive and the voices that were usually annoying but not too loud were suddenly _screaming_.

He couldn't handle it.

Finn found him in the choir room during lunch, ass on the floor and hands over his ears as he rocked. Hands touched his shoulders and the noises began to quiet as watery eyes found the other teen.

"What's wrong?" Finn asked, worried. God, the worry was coming off him in waves. Too much. Too loud.

"They're fucking screaming," he choked out as he rocked forward into Finn's chest. Face pressed into the guy's neck and his own hands still clamped over his ears. "They're all feeling and I… I…"

Finn shushed him, arms wrapping around his body and bringing him in closer. More touching. Less voices. The others faded out until all he could hear was Finn and he could _feel_ him trying to project calm. Trying to calm him down as fingers traced circles into his back. "It's okay," he told him, his voice gentle. "I've got you."

Like he knew. Like he knew the maddening hell Puck was going through. Maybe he did, he thought. He'd told Finn about the empathy when they were kids. Told him that touching made everything quiet and that when he wasn't, he felt everything. Finn called it his superpower. As they got older, though, they never mentioned it again. Talk of powers turned into talks about football and girls. It wasn't like he _could_ talk about it. Telling Finn now… Hell, telling _anyone_. He couldn't. They'd think there was something wrong with him when there wasn't.

He was just kind of psychic. Not like Rachel and her fake stuff. _Actually_ psychic.

"What do you need me to do?"

Puck turned desperate eyes to Finn. "Get me out of here," he pleaded. "Get me out of here..."

He did. Finn bundled him up in his letterman jacket and held onto him the whole way to the car, only letting go long enough to run over to his side. Held his hand the whole way to his house while Puck cried and wondered if he was actually going crazy.

"It's gonna be okay," Finn promised him. "Come here." He tugged him by the arm until Puck was lying across the center console and tucked under his arm. "That better?"

He nodded, stifling a sob as he pressed his face into Finn's shirt. Better. Safer. Still, though… "You're feeling too loudly…"

"Sorry." Finn let out a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. It was no mental block, but it did quiet down a few decibels. Like turning the volume down on a TV. He was trying to calm himself down and quiet the worry he was feeling and…

God. He _did_ know. Finn did remember. He could feel it. The understanding. The sympathy. The want to make him feel better. He remembered his superpower and he was trying to help.

"Better," he told him, voice clogged.

"Good. We're almost at my place. Nice and quiet, okay?" Finn let go of his hand and let his arm curl across Puck's back instead, fingers playing with his mohawk. "Kurt's gonna be spending the weekend with Mercedes and my mom and Burt went away for the weekend. It's just gonna be us. As long as you need."

It sounded like fucking heaven, but Puck didn't say that. He just clung to Finn tighter and hid until they got to the house. Let Finn shuffle him inside and upstairs until both of them were on the bed. Legs tangled. Arms pulling the other one close. Finn's fingers kept playing with his hair and Puck sighed, calming.

They didn't move for hours. Didn't talk about the fact that they'd skipped the rest of the school day and Glee or that they'd missed dinner. By the time Puck found the strength to pull away, it was dark outside and the frantic shaking he'd had had calmed to something he'd be doing if he was cold. "Thanks…"

Finn shook his head. "It's cool. You doing okay?"

"Better." He bit his lip. "You remember…"

Finn gave him a wry smile, shrugging. "You don't forget when your best friend has superpowers."

"Feels more like a fucking curse," he huffed, shifting away from Finn. The loss of the connection made something in his chest twist painfully and his stomach lurched. He reached for Finn again, tangling their fingers together.

Finn gave his hand a squeeze. "Lie down."

"Been lying down all day."

Finn shrugged a shoulder and tugged at his arm until he laid back down. Pulled him flush against him and pressed his cheek to Puck's temple. "What can I do?"

"You're doing plenty."

"You looked like you were gonna puke when you moved away from me," he said flatly. "Something's gotta calm it down. You're not usually like this."

"Can't focus," he muttered. "Beth…" He trailed off, not willing to say anything else about it. He didn't want to get into the bone-crushing agony of losing her again and the panic of the knowledge that Beth was going to have powers and no one was going to be there to help her with them. She was going to need him and he wasn't going to be there.

But Finn understood. What little he'd said was enough. He felt the understanding and the sympathy wash over them both like a wave. Compassion, he realized, and a touch of anger at Shelby for starting this and disappearing. "Not her fault," he mumbled.

"You slept with her," Finn said, questioning but sounding like he already knew the answer.

"Yeah."

"She was a teacher, man. It's her fault. Doesn't matter if you're eighteen. That stuff's not cool," he said stiffly. He felt Finn push the anger back, though, forcibly calming himself again. When did he get so good at that? "What usually helps?"

Puck snorted. "Sex."

Finn's eyebrows inched up, but there wasn't really any surprise on his face. It was like he'd expected that. Maybe he had. "Okay."

His head shot up, ready to check and see if Finn was the one that had gone insane, but there were lips on his before any words could make it out of his mouth. Lips against lips and a tongue pushing into his mouth.

There wasn't even any nervousness in Finn, he realized through the shock. There was just confidence and this overwhelming want to help. Maybe a little desire and… Not a little. Fuck. A lot. He could feel it. Could feel it coursing through Finn and into him like a truck. Finn _wanted him_. Maybe he had for a while.

Maybe Finn was better with blocks than he was. He hadn't caught this before.

He made a noise into the kiss and felt Finn smile against his lips before he broke away, gasping. "You want this? Seriously?"

"Yeah." No doubt. Some nervousness that Puck would tell him to take a hike, but he wasn't questioning what he was doing. Finn _knew_ and… Fuck. How long had this been going on?

"Rachel…"

"We broke up," Finn said. "Not much point to a relationship when you have an expiration date." Honesty. A little sadness. He really had loved her, but he'd let her go. They wouldn't have worked.

"And me?"

Finn smiled again, a little shyly this time. "For a while. Stop thinking about it so much after the first year or two. Kinda just sticks around. I didn't think you'd pick up on it."

"I _didn't_."

Finn's hands moved down to his hips, big and firm, thumbs drawing little circles over the denim of his jeans. "You want me to stop?"

Did he? Had he ever really _looked_ at Finn like that? Had he ever looked at him and thought about him in any way other than friendship?

Maybe? It was so hard to pull his own thoughts from other people's sometimes, but he remembered a couple times. Moments he'd thought were Kurt or Rachel in his head, but they felt too much like him.

He'd thought of Finn that time he slept with Tyler too. Compared how close Tyler was to matching Finn's height and how the hair was the same kind of messy look that was kind of cute.

"No," he said finally as he drew his arms up around Finn's neck. "Don't want you to stop."

"Cool." Then, he was kissing him again, those big hands pulling him in closer before he rolled them, settling on top of Puck instead. Clothes made it to the floor, thrown in whatever direction their arms flung them, and hands moved. Touching. Stretching. Lips kissed. Teeth nipped.

Finn pressed inside him with a strangled gasp, like he hadn't expected Puck to be that tight. He'd never had sex with a guy before, Puck realized. He'd just watched the porn. Never tried. Never felt.

His body arched up into Finn's and he moaned into a kiss as the world went quiet. Him and Finn. No one else. No inkling. No tickle. On a normal day, he could feel people four houses down. Right now… Nothing. He felt Finn, calm inside his head and feeling more comforting than intruding. Felt the happiness and the arousal. Felt _him_. Felt all of him.

"Finn…"

"Got you…"

They lay together after, trapped in a tangle of limbs that neither one of them was willing to undo. Finn's fingers trailed up and down his side as he kissed at Puck's neck. Happy. Sated. Loving hit Puck like a truck, but he didn't voice it. Didn't even stiffen at the thought. He just relaxed against Finn.

He slept deeper than he ever had.

Something changed after that. He felt Finn more, even when he wasn't touching him. Sitting in class and even if they weren't in the same one, he'd feel him. Feel the confusion and frustration as the guy sat through Spanish and the closeted excitement of English, because the guy would never admit that he actually _liked_ reading.

He felt him more clearly than he ever had. Could quiet everyone else and focus just on Finn. No touching. No nothing. Just…Finn. Quiet. Calm. Safe.

He mentioned it to Finn around Thanksgiving as the two of them hid, tucked away at the end of the hallway while family milled around the living room. They'd go back out after a quiet talk and some stolen kisses, he knew, but he was holding onto the private time they had. They wouldn't have that once they told their families they were together.

"That's how it works, isn't it?" Finn asked. "When you're touching me, you just feel me."

"It's not just that anymore. Even when you're somewhere else. I just focus on you and everything else stops. _Everyone else_ stops."

"That's good, right?"

"Yeah. I just… I don't get it. This never happened with anyone else."

Finn shrugged, clueless. "I don't know."

"I don't either." He bit at his bottom lip. "I mean, I'm not going crazy anymore. It just doesn't make sense."

"Maybe ask your Nana?" he suggested. "She's the one that knows all about these powers and stuff."

"I tried that. I didn't tell her _who_ , but I think she knew." He shook his head, grumbling, "Those stupid visions."

"What did she say?"

"She just kept saying something about forming a connection and minds matching up. I didn't get it." It had sounded too much like soulmates. Too much for an eighteen-year-old to fathom and too serious for a relationship that wasn't even six months old.

"You can't do it with anyone else?"

He shook his head. "No. I've tried."

Finn hummed, thinking, but he didn't seem to come up with an answer that would explain what she'd said any other way. Finn had gotten the same feeling he had, the implication of soulmates, but he wasn't voicing it either. The nerves and the shyness. He could _feel_ that Finn was in love with him—had been for a while—but he never mentioned it. When that stuff came up, it would be because someone said it, not because his powers had told him.

Finn leaned down to kiss him instead of offering up any kind of ideas. "Maybe just count it as a good thing?" he said, too casual for someone that was palming his ass and had just had his tongue down Puck's throat. "I mean, if it's not hurting you…"

"It's not."

"Then, don't worry about it."

Puck nodded, tilting his head up for one more kiss before one of their moms could come looking for them. "Alright. Not thinking about it. Thinking about other stuff, though."

Finn laughed. "It's all dirty, isn't it?"

"Very."

"Kind of glad I can't get in your head like that," Finn admitted as he gave Puck's ass a pinch. "I wouldn't be able to focus on dinner."

"Oh, like reading you is gonna help me at all?"

"Hey, I'm innocent."

"I _can_ hear you, you know? Nothing that you're thinking is innocent and… Dude, where did you even _learn that_?"

"The internet is _really_ helpful."

Oh, God.

The End


End file.
